


won't you be my liney

by Snickfic



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Feelings, Linemate Sex, M/M, Pittsburgh Penguins, Situational Dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:24:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/pseuds/Snickfic
Summary: Players didn’thaveto fuck. It was in the CBA. Any player could say no at any time.





	won't you be my liney

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theladyscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyscribe/gifts).



“You come home with me,” Geno said. 

Bryan knew it was coming as soon as Johnson’s wrist shot ended the game, putting the Bolts up in the series 3-2. Bryan tromped down the hallway with the rest of the team, his skate blades thudding dully against the rubber mat, and he looked up ahead and saw it confirmed in the furious set of Geno’s shoulders. Bryan sat in his stall to untie his skates and pull off his suspenders, and his heart pounded with adrenaline still, though he shouldn’t have had any left.

And now here Geno was, already turned half away, barely waiting for an answer because he hadn’t really asked a question.

“What about Kuni?” Bryan asked, instead of what he wanted to say.

“He’s go home to family tonight. Maybe we do with him tomorrow.” After they flew into Tampa. In Geno’s hotel room, probably, because he was the center or just because he was Geno and the universe tended to order itself to his specifications, one way or another.

“Okay,” Bryan said.

He drove his own car. It was crazy to think how recently he’d had to program Geno’s address into his phone. He knew the way by heart now. 

Bryan parked out behind the house, next to Geno’s Mercedes, and followed Geno into the house. Bryan had come through the front entryway once, with its marble-looking floors and white pillars on each side. Coming in the back, Geno’s house felt less like some kind of mansion and more like a home, with carpeted floors a doorway on one side opening into his spacious kitchen. 

Geno paused at that doorway now. “You want to eat something first?”

Bryan had caught a postgame meal before he headed out, like usual. “I’m fine,” he said.

Geno nodded and headed on down the hall, towards the stairs.

Usually it was Bryan’s tongue that got in the way of what he wanted to say. He’d learned ways to work around the stutter, and he had even gotten pretty comfortable with interviews, but it still tripped him up sometimes. But now it was the words themselves that got stuck in his throat as he stood there in Geno’s back hallway, fixed in place.

Geno noticed finally that Bryan wasn’t following. “What you wait?”

Bryan almost moved, one foot after the other in the kind of mechanical forward motion that had brought him all the way here from Consol. Instead he stood his ground and said, “I don’t want to.”

“What?” 

“I don’t want to,” Bryan repeated.

“It’s same we always do,” Geno explained carefully, as if Bryan were slow somehow. “For chemistry.”

“I know,” Bryan said. 

“You get hurt tonight?”

“No.”

“So?” Geno demanded, eyebrows high. “What’s problem?”

Players didn’t _have_ to fuck. It was in the CBA. Any player could say no at any time, and some teams didn’t seem to believe in it at all. The Wild were practically celibate, from what Cully said. But on other teams, telling your franchise center _no_ was asking for a one-way trip out of town. Just ask Ryan Strome.

“Um,” Bryan said.

Geno waited and waited, and finally he threw up his hands. “Fine,” he said. “You don’t want to win, don’t care, it’s fine. Go home.” He finished with a few choice words in Russian and then stomped up the stairs.

Bryan’s heart was beating so hard. He felt a little shocky, like he might cry. He didn’t want to drive home like this. He shouldn’t have driven out _here_. He should have had this out with Geno in the locker room, but there’d been a tiny part of him that hoped he’d feel differently by the time he got to Geno’s house.

He took a couple of shaky breaths, and then he went to the kitchen and flicked the light on. He knew where things were in Geno’s kitchen. A couple of times, he’d carpooled with Geno and spent the night. It’d been nice. Geno in the mornings was a mellow kind of cranky, too sleepy for any strong emotion. He’d made eggs on autopilot and woken up just in time to eat them with Bryan, as they leaned against the counters in their sweatpants and nothing else, morning sun streaming through the windows.

Now Bryan got out a glass and filled it with water from the fridge. He drank half of it in the first few gulps. Then, sipping at it, he dug around in Geno’s pantry for the energy bars he knew Geno kept there. The sugar would help.

He heard Geno before he saw him, Geno’s tread almost as heavy coming down the stairs as going up. Bryan turned around, and there Geno was, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He’d changed into sweats and a t-shirt. 

Bryan wordlessly held out an energy bar, but Geno shook his head. Bryan set it back in the box and closed the pantry door. He tore open the other one and took a bite off. Geno gave him time to swallow it and then said, “You don’t want before?”

“It was fine before,” Bryan said.

“So what’s difference?” Geno asked. Mostly he just sounded curious. His usual thunderous post-loss scowl had been eased away; apparently Bryan doing the unexpected was enough to distract him out of it, for the moment.

“It didn’t help,” Bryan said.

Geno’s eyebrow rose. “You know? You’re so sure?”

“We’ve done it a lot, you and me and Kuni. More than anyone.” Anyone except maybe Dumo and Tanger, although Bryan wasn’t sure they quite counted anymore. “If it was going to help, it would by now.”

“Maybe it does. Maybe we’re worse, we don’t do all those times.” Geno’s gaze was searching, relentless. For good or illl, Bryan definitely had his full attention.

Bryan shifted his weight and bit off more energy bar, to give himself time to think. To phrase things. “I don’t like having sex with people when they’re angry,” Bryan said finally, and that was true, too, as far as it went.

“I don’t hurt you,” Geno said, appalled. “I’m not angry with _you_.”

“I don’t like it,” Bryan repeated. “I don’t want to.”

Geno snorted heavily and walked into the kitchen. When Bryan shied away a little as Geno passed him, Geno shot him a look of pure, disbelieving disgust. “You want eggs?” Geno asked over his shoulder.

“Um—”

“I make. How many.”

“Three,” Bryan said, giving up. He watched from the door of the pantry as Geno melted butter in a skillet and broke six eggs into it. Geno seemed bent on ignoring Bryan, so Bryan finished the energy bar and tossed the crumpled wrapper in the wrapper in the trash. Soon enough Geno handed him a plate with half the eggs. Bryan got his own fork from the silverwar drawer. 

It was late—past midnight, now. Usually they worked on chemistry on off-days. Bryan could have just used that as an excuse, back in the locker room, and he wouldn’t have to be standing here now in this oppressive silence. “Do you ever—” he began, almost before he realized he was going to.

Geno cast Bryan one quick glance before returning his attention to his own plate. Bryan realized with sudden clarity that Geno was waiting him out. Bryan didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse.

“Do you ever want to have sex with other people?” Bryan said.

Geno squinted at him, mouth curving into an uncertain smile. “I have sex other people all the time. Go out, pick somebody up. You think I don’t do?”

“I don’t mean that,” Bryan said. He was sorry now that he’d said anything.

“Like what you mean?” 

It felt like Geno’d stand there forever with an empty plate in one hand, waiting for the puzzle of Bryan to solve itself. Bryan summoned his courage and his words, as best he could. “What if you wanted to have something real with someone. Not chemistry sex or somebody at a bar.”

“Like Kuni? You want wife, kids?”

Bryan shrugged that away. 

“Someone you want, but it’s hard, they don’t understand this?” Geno motioned between them. “Don’t understand it’s important, we have to do.”

Bryan couldn’t meet Geno’s eyes anymore. “I guess, yeah.”

“You want to stop?” Geno asked. 

“It’s not that.” Bryan couldn’t find anything to do with his hands, suddenly. He shoved them in his pockets. “I’ll do it. I still want to win.” He stole a peek at Geno, because he really fucking needed to know if Geno believed him on that one. 

But Geno was staring at the hardwood floor, lost in his own thoughts. “I do a lot, you know,” he said. “Chemistry. Always, but more now, because my arm.” He waggled his injured elbow loosely. With a flash of dark humor, he said, “I’m old, you know? Injured, have to—to contribute.”

Bryan hadn’t really thought about any of that. “I just thought you were always like this,” he said, before he could think better of it. “I mean, really, um, committed. To line chemistry.”

“Maybe I am,” Geno said. He didn’t look happy about it. Bryan didn’t know what to do about that. He really wasn’t even sure what the conversation was about anymore. But then Geno heaved a big sigh and lifted his gaze. “You want to go to bed?”

“I—” 

“Just sleep. You can have guest bed, or you want, you sleep with me.” Geno shrugged, like it made no difference to him.

Geno had more than one layer of bullshit, Bryan had learned. Some bullshit was easy to recognize, because Geno would be grinning, his tongue caught between his teeth. Other bullshit took more experience to see through. Bryan wasn’t sure what it said about him that he could do that, now. “With you,” he said.

Geno gave Bryan hangers for his suit and a toothbrush from a stash in his medicine cabinet. He shared his toothpaste with Bryan, and they brushed side by side at the sink. After crawling into Geno’s bed, Bryan tried not to stare as Geno turned out the light. He’d never slept in this bed without having sex before. He wasn’t sure what happened next.

Geno seemed very far away, over there on the other side of the California king. Bryan tried to regulate his breathing, but his thoughts kept running around and around, like a horse on a track, and he couldn’t seem to slow them down.

“You sleeping?” Geno asked softly.

“No,” Bryan said.

“You want come here?” There was an uncertain note in Geno’s voice. Bryan didn’t like the sound of it. 

He really didn’t like being the cause of it.

Bryan shifted over until he could just about feel the heat of Geno’s skin. Geno put a hand to Bryan’s hip and tugged him the rest of the way in. Bryan’s head was tucked below Geno’s chin, Geno’s arm draped over Bryan’s side. It should have been too warm, but finally Bryan felt himself begin to relax.

\--

At some point during the night Bryan got overheated and rolled over, but when he woke the next morning with a full bladder, Geno was octopused around him again, breathing softly against the back of Bryan’s neck. This time when Bryan tried to get free, Geno held him tighter.

“Geno,” Bryan said softly. “I gotta pee, man.”

Geno grumbled in his sleep, a comforting, now-familiar sound, but he relaxed enough that Bryan could get out of his arms and stumble to the bathroom. The sun had risen hours ago and shone brightly now through the window above the toilet, but the house was silent and still, as though there was no one in it but Bryan.

When he came out of the bathroom, Geno was propped on one elbow, watching. As Bryan got closer, he could see how Geno’s eyes were still crusty with sleep.

Bryan sat on the bed. He’d slept in just underwear, and now his skin prickled with cold. The silence felt heavy. “Are you all right?” he asked finally, when Geno kept on not saying anything. 

Geno licked his lips, shrugged. Gave Bryan a pleading look, like it was in Bryan’s power to just understand whatever it was Geno wanted him to know. But Bryan didn’t have a fucking clue, and his face must have shown it, because finally Geno sat up, sheets and comforter bunched in his lap. “I think about what you say last night, about something real.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bryan said cautiously.

“I think, you know, hard to find someone who understand, and hockey’s so important, so I don’t—I don’t look. Just line fucking, like you say. Bar sex.”

Bryan and Geno weren’t friends, really. They didn’t talk about shit like this. Or like the shit from last night, either, so they were way off the map by this point.

“Mostly I try not to think about,” Geno said. “I’m not give up hockey, so I think nothing I can change.”

Lots of guys played hockey and got married, too. Bryan had never been sure how they did it. Hockey itself was so consuming, on-ice and off, and then in bed, too. What was there left? “I get that,” Bryan said.

Geno looked at him curiously. “But there’s someone you want?”

Bryan traced along the hem of the sheet with his index finger. “Kind of. Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” Geno said, so sad and so sincere. 

Instead of trying to say anything around the lump in his throat, Bryan knee-walked across the bed. Geno watched him approach and then his eyes got wide as Bryan pressed a hand to Geno’s shoulder and leaned in.

Geno’s breath was foul, and the patchy fuzz on his upper lip tickled. It was not a sexy kiss, but Bryan kept going anyway, tracing his palm up the side of Geno’s neck and along his jaw, shifting closer so the angle was easier on Bryan’s neck. Geno threaded his fingers through Bryan’s hair, tugging a little. Heat pooled low in Bryan’s belly, and maybe it was a sexy kiss after all.

Bryan retreated, sitting back on his heels. Geno’s breath was a little heavier than usual. He looked at Bryan for a long time, his expression troubled. “You want for—for chemistry? Or—?”

“It’s you,” Bryan blurted out. He could feel his face flame, and he bowed his head so maybe Geno wouldn’t see. “You’re who I—but it’s _always_ for chemistry. Usually that’s okay, but sometimes it—it kind of fucks me up.”

“When I’m get pissed off.”

“Yeah.”

“Rusty.” Geno stroked up and down Bryan’s arm. “Why you don’t say?”

“Are you kidding?” Bryan asked, startled into looking Geno in the eye. “It’s such a fucking cliché, guy gets a crush on his center. His fucking _superstar_ center.” God, this was why he hadn’t ever been going to talk about it.

Geno looked down at Bryan’s hand, running a thumb over his knuckles. “But we’re same,” he said, shrugging, like that wasn’t absurd at all. “Both feel same. Left out?” He offered the phrase uncertainly.

“I guess,” Bryan said. “Yeah.”

“Same,” Geno repeated, as if repetition was all the argument he needed.

“Okay?” Bryan said.

Geno huffed, unimpressed. “This not for chemistry, okay? It’s for you. Just for you.” Geno leaned in and kissed Bryan’s mouth, careful and sweet. His hand was heavy on Bryan’s hip. Bryan was breathless by the time Geno pulled away.

Bryan wanted so much. He wanted _this_ , whatever it was, this gift of Geno’s full attention on him, not for hockey but for _him_ , even if just for a little while. “Can I—?” Bryan asked, slipping his fingers inside the waistband of Geno’s boxers.

“For hockey?” Geno asked. “Or for—?”

“Maybe,” Bryan began, feeling very daring, like he was stepping on a brand new sheet of ice never skated on before. “Maybe it could be both.” He wasn’t precisely sure yet what that second thing was. It didn’t bother him that much, just now. “If you want. We still have to beat Tampa, you know.”

For the first time that morning, Geno’s smirk came out, supremely self-satisfied. This time he kissed Bryan open-mouthed, slick with spit and immediately filthy. His touch was hot on Bryan’s skin, skating up and down Bryan’s ribs, leaving Bryan flushing behind him. “Off,” he mumbled, tugging at Bryan’s boxer briefs, so Bryan lifted his hips and let Geno strip him. Geno crawled between Bryan’s legs and eyed Bryan’s dick like it made his mouth water. The sight of it shocked the breath out of Bryan. 

Geno gripped Bryan’s hips with his enormous hands, and he bent and took Bryan into his mouth. And Bryan’s last thought before he got lost in the delicious heat of Geno’s mouth was this: he’d been lying to himself. There was no fucking way he wanted this for just a little while. He wanted it all the time. 

And maybe he could have it.

[end]

**Author's Note:**

> And then two games later Rusty scored the game winner that won the series [this attempted hug happened](http://itstartledme.tumblr.com/post/146903687905/book23worm-bryan-rust-talks-about-scoring-in).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [won't you be my liney (The Sharp Tooth Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14235054) by [Vidriana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vidriana/pseuds/Vidriana)




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